


let me see you stripped down to the bone

by sultrygoblin



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Innocence, Mild Angst, Mild Fluff, preromance, reader is a patient
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:06:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24935761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sultrygoblin/pseuds/sultrygoblin
Summary: one shot - in order to appreciate the beauty of a snowflake, it is necessary to stand out in the cold
Relationships: Dr. Frederick Chilton/Reader, Dr. Frederick Chilton/You
Kudos: 19





	let me see you stripped down to the bone

**Author's Note:**

> lightly based off this. ya know when you’re gonna write something and then you don’t. they don’t have to be connected in your mind though. anyays! here’s something no one requested or asked for....

You sit in his office, prim and proper. Ankles crossed, hands in your lap, back and shoulders straight, still managing an air of regency in your once standard-issue grey dress. You look no more deadly than a lost kitten. In truth, of all the criminally insane residents you were perhaps the _least_ dangerous, perhaps you might have stayed that way. But life’s circumstance had not been kind. Even kitten could claw and bite. You certainly had. It seemed impossible, that his quiet girl with your bright smile had committed the well documented, and unfortunately, photographed atrocities in the closed file in front of him. How could anyone who looked so pure spill so much blood?

“I hear you have a request,” Frederick’s mouth moves on instinct, his tone practiced sarcasm and ever so slightly annoyed, “Would you like to share it?”

You smiled sheepishly, “I just,” stopping to swallow in hopes it would wet your mouth, it’s hard not to see how innocent you still are, “I just thought,” how lost you are from so many years in institution after institution, “I would like to go outside. Just for a few moments. My record is-”

“Yes,” he interrupts your rambling before you’ve talked yourself out of the request, “You’ve improved since you came here all those years ago. Aren’t we supposed to be rehabilitating you?” all too aware of where his mind wished to wander, he blocked its path, success an easier pill to swallow, “Yes, fresh air will do nicely.”

And that is what he does. Taking his own jacket and plopping it around your shoulders, ordering two officers to follow as you made your way towards the front entrance. It feels almost like leaving, even though you know it’s not. You think of it as practice for when the moment comes. When you’re wearing clothes you have chosen, never to step back inside again, those officers with their tasers bidding you adieu instead of following you outside. You focus on how close the door is.

Until he’s opening it for you, watching your mouth open and eyes go wide, watching joy and awe take you over. Pride swells in his chest, toeing the line of personal and professional as he so often finds himself these days. You clasp your hands in front of you as he leads you down the cement steps, enamored with the way you watched the world. Finding bliss in simplicity, something he was completely incapable of. You look so at home, your warm breath letting out puffs of steam with each long exhale. Until you step into the grass, turning your head skyward, a shy smile curling your lips as your eyes fluttered closed.

“Fresh air is certainly worth smiling about,” tone that well-practiced professionalism, an idea as a doctor and not what he truly was. A man craving a smile from a pretty girl, “Little crisp isn’t it?” the grin takes over your face as your open on him with more sarcasm than he’s ever seen from you, “This is a part of your therapy, after all.”

You ease his jacket off your shoulders and hand it to him. He’s about to protest when you take a few steps forward and collapse in the dew. Enjoying the way it froze your fingers as they explored the grass for the first time in years and how it sends goosebumps exploding across your skin, hair dampening. Your teeth begin to chatter and you pay them no mind. Too focused on the sensation of being truly outside than anything else. He’s forced tot ouch you, something he’s carefully avoided during your stay. He helps you to your feet carefully, even if you seemed uneager to rise, treating you as a doll rather than a murderess. 

“We’d never seen snow until we moved to my uncle’s,” allowing him to place the heavy coat over your water-cooled body, “I remember we made snow angels until our lips turned blue that winter,” their escorts part as your feet move slowly back towards the door, unwilling but compliant, “I snuck out every night to this little grove I found. I’d layer up, just like auntie had taught us, and I’d trek through the snow until I found it. Just glittering in the moonlight. I’d stay there all night sometimes,” _permanent nerve damage of the fingers and toes_ , the slight shivering beginning to ease once they’d entered the building, “Every night, every winter.”

“What did you do there?” watching your throat bob as your swallowed hard, clearly not quite sure if you’re ready to trust him with this answer, “You’re doing well, this is progress. You can’t step backward,” _you can’t do that to me_ , but he’s torn between why at least he pretends to be.

You eye the orderly that opens the door, “I promise to tell you,” said in that heavy way that reminds him how much those two words really did mean to you, something he had both used and been used by, “But it’s private,” that all-seeing gaze flicking to the corners that only he should know about.

You are taken to get cleaned up by Vivien and he returns to his office no doubt. You remain mum on what happened. Allowing her to pat you down to make sure you hadn’t slipped something by you, before helping you to the shower. She’s far too busy enjoying one of Freddie Lounds’ articles to care when Matthew appears with the offer to take you back to your cell. You’re sure he’s been waiting outside till he was positive you were dressed. Matthew liked to believe you didn’t see, that he hid it so well from you, but you knew. Perhaps he was more calculating, he hadn’t been caught, but he was like most men you had met. A predator desperate for prey. You give him silence instead.

Frederick’s eyes are focused on the way he remains. Leaning against the wall across from you. He should focus on his work, it is almost the end of his day here and he wants to bring home as little as possible. But he can’t tear his eyes away. Not even to leave, let jealousy take the reigns, but then he would have to admit that he had finally fallen over the edge. Or had you pulled him that way? Had you tugged at this orderly too? For all your naivety, you had a way of twisting people to your will. No matter how pure or innocent it may be, the level of manipulation you were capable of could be considered sinful. If that’s what you were using it for but he was quickly becoming unsure of what was truly logical anymore.

Eventually, the boy gives up whatever games he’s trying for the day. But it will resume again tomorrow. As it always does for the three of you. Except- tired green eyes drag across paperwork, things that need to be done, his cane thuds on the floor as he climbs to his feet. Making his way towards exactly where he shouldn’t be going. It had never occurred to him he might not have time to come to terms with the feelings inside of him. That there might be some other vying for her affection. One would think in an institution there wouldn’t be a lot of competition but apparently one would be wrong. He should’ve known eventually someone was bound to see what he did.

An undeniably compelling woman trying to survive in a series of circumstances beyond your control, “Couldn’t wait for the answer, Dr. Chilton?” 

You don’t just seem more confident, you are more confident. Your eyes casting downward but not so far as to remain unseen and there’s no sign of your teeth against your bottom lip. It’s an incredible amount of progress, it fills him with an odd sense of loss. After this was over for you, what would he be?

“It would bother me all night,” it’s true and that shines even beneath the sarcasm.

It’s as if you’re looking into his soul, you’ve never stared at him like that before and it drives home what he already knows, “I thought about how I’d escape,” he’s yours.

Body, mind, and soul.


End file.
